Neil (The Uncompromising Series Book 2) (5 page)

“Nah-uh.” I scooted back until I hit the headboard and wished like hell I’d taken his call more seriously. I could’ve at least run my fingers through my hair or brushed my teeth before answering the door. “You don’t get to break in to my apartment and get away with it.” His T-shirt stretched across his shoulders then went loose at his waist. His jeans strained around his huge thigh muscles and I swore he was even more ripped than last week.

“I did not come here intent on getting away with anything.”

Right.
“The way you look, I bet you get away with a whole lot.”

Expression like stone, he held his hand out. “Phone.”

In a remarkable show of restraint, I didn’t roll my eyes. I didn’t even blink. I gave him his blank stare right back.

“I am not here so you can waste my time.”

Not that I was counting, but that was twice he’d accused me of wasting his precious time. “Pretty sure I didn’t invite you, so we’re even.”

“Test me,” he warned. “I will find the phone.” His gaze strayed to my covers.

I sighed and my hand rooted around under the comforter until it closed over my broken phone. I tossed it at him then pulled the covers back up to my chin. “How did you know my number?” And why the hell was he showing up now?

“Luna,” he admitted, catching the phone one-handed and turning it over. Quick and precise, he popped the back off, took out the SIM card and put it in a new phone he already had on his lap. Then he swiped his thumbs over the display and messed with it for a few seconds before holding it out to me.

Careful not give him a free boob shot, I took the brand-spanking-new phone that was the same kind as the one I’d had but about a thousand versions newer. “So it took you a week to decide to get me a phone?”

“I was out of town. My number is programmed. Text me later today with what size television you want.” He stood. “Groceries are on the counter.”

Shame washed over me and period cramps decided to take that exact second to unleash on me. I bit back a groan and clutched my stomach. “I can’t afford this.”

“I am not asking you to pay for it. What is wrong with your stomach?”

Fucking hell. “Nothing, cramps.” I looked up at unyielding gray eyes. “I’m not your charity case.”

“I am not letting the child go hungry,” he countered.

It should’ve made me angry. I should’ve given him an earful or defended myself. I could’ve told him I’d bought groceries, or better yet, told him where to shove it. I wasn’t a bad mother and my son had never gone hungry. Conner didn’t have what other kids had, but he’d never,
ever
missed a meal. But instead of being pissed or even embarrassed, stupid fucking tears welled in my eyes because just like last week, I didn’t have any goddamn milk in my fridge.

I turned away from Viking. “He isn’t going hungry.”

“I will let myself out.”

“You do that,” I managed.

Right then, Conner woke up. His soft, raspy cry filtered into my room and I swung my legs out of bed, pulling the comforter with me as I stood.

“I will get him. Get dressed.”

I looked over my shoulder but Viking was already walking out. A second later, Conner’s cry stopped and I heard the low rumble of Viking’s voice.

I grabbed some clothes, made it to the bathroom, and shut the door. Before I could set the new phone on the counter, the date on the display mocked me. Fourteen days. Fourteen days until I needed to come up with an extra seven hundred dollars in rent. I sank to the floor and Conner’s giggle sounded through the closed door.

Pushing to my feet, I hastily showered and rushed through a quick blow dry of my hair. Fifteen minutes later, I walked into the living room to the smell of coffee and cooking meat.

“Mama!” Conner’s wide smile greeted me from his booster seat at my scarred kitchen table. Bacon on his tray and some leftover bits of scrambled egg on his face, his toothy grin made my heart melt. “Bacon, Mama!”

“Hey, baby.” I kissed the top of his head and hated the fact that I hadn’t been able to afford to buy my son breakfast meat in two months. “Let me get you a napkin.” I turned to grab a paper towel and froze. There were bags of groceries on my counter. Like,
bags
. “You bought all this?” I scanned what must have been hundreds of dollars of food in shock.

Viking handed me two Advil and a cup of coffee, then silently went back to flipping the bacon he had cooking.

I stared at the two pills and the mug. No one had gotten me Advil since I was a kid. “Cream,” I stupidly stated.

He nodded in confirmation. “You put cream in it at work.”

He was right. I did. A lot of cream. Because it was free. But I didn’t think Viking had noticed that. I usually had a cup of coffee on my desk at Luna and Associates because it was another thing I’d stopped buying. You never truly appreciate something as simple as coffee until you can no longer afford to buy it. But the fact that he’d noticed how I took my coffee the few times he was at André’s office? I didn’t know what to do with that. I was suddenly more uncomfortable than when he’d quoted Shakespeare.

I set the mug down and swallowed the pills dry. “What are you doing?” He shouldn’t be here. He should be in his fancy truck with a fancy girl who didn’t get cramps, going to a fancy breakfast, or the gym, or whatever it is rich people did with their time and money in the mornings.

Viking didn’t answer me.

He forked bacon onto a paper towel and pushed eggs around in another pan. His muscles flexing, he reached for a plate in the cupboard and heaped food onto it. He took a fork out of a drawer like he knew my kitchen and cooked in it all the time, then he held the plate out to me, complete with a utensil. “Eat.”

My hands went to my hips. “I asked you a question.”

He inclined his head at the table. “Sit.”

“I’m not a dog.”

Conner’s head bounced between us as he chewed his bacon.

“Another mention of a comparison to a canine.” He moved around me and his body heat snaked up my back and sent a chill of awareness across my flesh. “Sit and eat.” He set the food down and pulled a chair out.

I didn’t move.

He glanced down at Conner and switched to Danish. The rapid words, almost harsh sounding, were accompanied by a slight upturn of his lips and Conner burst into giggles.

“What did you say?”

Viking winked at Conner then spared me glance. “That you look foolish standing when a plate of food is on the table in front of you.”

My nostrils flared and heat hit my cheeks. “He doesn’t know what you’re saying.”

Viking spoke to Conner again in Danish and Conner nodded. Viking turned back to me. “He understands.”

“Bullshit,” I snapped.

“Language,” Viking clipped.

What a jerk. A jerk who’d bought me a new phone and groceries. And made me and my son breakfast. Jesus, it was hard to be pissed when the smell of bacon and eggs was making my mouth water. “So it’d be okay if I swore in Danish?”

“No.”

“Great, then why don’t you teach me to swear in
Siberian
.”

He moved back to the stove with more grace than I’d ever have. “They speak Russian in Siberia.” Taking the pans to the sink, he made quick work of scrubbing them.

“Of course they do. And I suppose you’re fluent in that too.”

He put the clean pans on the drainboard then turned. His hip hit the counter, his arms crossed and he fixed his gaze on me. If his stare wasn’t so absolute, the bulge of his biceps would be almost comical. “Yes.”

He was so damn distracting, I almost forgot I had a question. “Russian, Danish and English. Is that all?”

“No.” He didn’t elaborate.

“Said the man of many talents.” I gestured dramatically at the plate of food he’d made me.

His eyes didn’t waver from mine but it felt like he not only scanned the length of my body but saw right through my bullshit. “If you are asking a question, I will answer it.”

I rolled my eyes because I could. And then I amped up the attitude because I’d never been so uncomfortable around another human being in my entire life. “Gee, where are my manners? Please, tell me, how many languages do you speak, Mr. Christensen?” Every second in his presence made me more aware of my sheltered life and barely passable high school grades.

“Seven.”

“
Bullshit
.” The swear popped out before I could stop it and Conner giggled. I couldn’t even name seven different languages but Viking started rattling them off like this was normal as shit.

“Danish, Finnish, Norwegian, English, Russian, Bulgarian and Arabic. But swearing in any language in front of a child is inappropriate.”

Mentally counting, I ignored his jab. “Where did you learn so many languages?” Fuck, that was seven.

“The military.”

“Say something in Bulgarian,” I challenged.

When he spoke, harsh consonants and a clipped staccato filled the kitchen.

I stared at his lips in fascination until he stopped speaking. “Now Arabic.”

Exotic words floated on soft
sh
sounds, and hard
H
s cut through the lilting flow as Viking spoke a language I’d never heard in my life.

“What did you say?” My own voice breathy and soft, I sounded exactly as I felt, more impressed now than I’d ever been with Viking.

“Which time?”

“The first time.”

“Your food is getting cold. You need to eat.”

“And the second time?”

Viking stared at me.

My heart started to pound erratically, a lump lodged in my throat and it felt like I’d crossed a line I didn’t know existed. “Never mind,” I quickly backtracked.

“I said you look beautiful when you wake up in the morning.”

Heat hit my cheeks and the air in the kitchen changed in a nanosecond. Charged and untouchable and so damn thick, I wanted to sink into it, but I’d never received a compliment I could trust less. I dug my nails into my palms to remind myself that this wasn’t my reality and lowered my gaze. Dropping to the chair he’d pulled out, I picked up my fork and shoveled in a bite of cold eggs. “Thanks for breakfast,” I muttered, never taking my eyes off my plate.

“You are welcome. I will let myself out.” He switched to Danish and said something to Conner. At least I assumed it was Danish, but now I’d never know. His hand briefly touched Conner’s shoulder then he was halfway to the door in two strides.

I swallowed past the congealed lump of eggs in my mouth. “Wait.”

Viking turned.

His expression impenetrable, he didn’t look patient or curious or even angry. I’d say he looked fierce but this morning, a half hour before the sun was due to rise, he wasn’t that either. He simply looked exactly like what he was—a warrior in civilian clothes. “Thank you.” I inhaled past the shame. “And thank you for feeding Conner. He likes you.” I regretted the last part as soon as the words left my mouth but I didn’t fully understand why until he replied.

“I am not looking to be a father figure.”

My traitorous heart took his honesty as a crushing blow and for the second time in his presence, my ego took a hit. I straightened my shoulders and grasped at what little pride I had left. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Good.” With a single nod, he decimated my illusion of dignity. “Text me your preference for a television size.”

The door closed quietly behind him.

“Neil,” Conner whispered.

My new cell phone buzzed with a text.

Davie: Short 2 girls. Be at the club by 7. You got a double shift tonight. You’re welcome.

S
HAKING MY ARMS OUT,
I pulled my left leg up behind me and pushed it to my ass. I stretched the muscles out like I was runner, which was a total joke. I rolled my shoulders and my song came on.

I hated stripping but I needed the money, bad. I’d been trying for three weeks to pick up a couple shifts at my old job but until tonight, there either hadn’t been any or the new owner had it out for me. He didn’t know what happened with Jimmy, no one at work did, but the new owner had been pissed when I told him I could only be a sub because I’d gotten a day job.

Even though I was tired as shit from my early morning Viking visit, I strode out on stage like I owned the damn joint and let the music take me into my routine. I shook my ass and pushed my tits together and counted off the steps. Each one meant I was a second closer to going home to Conner. It was fucked-up that I was thinking of my son while I was strutting my pussy wares, but that was exactly what I was doing when I spun to show off my ass and saw him.

I stumbled. I fucking stumbled.

All six feet six inches of Viking was in my strip club. And he was staring me down.

Goddamn it
. How the hell did he know I was here? I tried to wipe the shock off my face but I’d never felt more naked in my entire life. Fighting the urge to cover my tits, I looked away and told myself I didn’t have anything he hadn’t seen a thousand times over. I wasn’t shy. Men paid good money to see my assets but for some reason, having an angry-looking Viking watch my every move made me feel like shit.

Fuck him.

I stuck my ass out and ground my hips but instead of the routine flowing, my rhythm was off. Worse, my legs were quivering, my heart was pounding, and my stomach was fluttering.